Sleeping Beauty
by S. Faith
Summary: She can hear them, but she may as well be invisible.


**Sleeping Beauty**

By S. Faith, © 2013

Words: 6,548  
Rating: T / PG-13  
Summary: She can hear them, but she may as well be invisible.  
Disclaimer: Not my characters.  
Notes: Ever since I read _The Lovely Bones_, I thought it would be interesting to do a story with a similar POV. However, I could not bring myself to, er, make Bridget be dead (hey, I recently read _Redshirts_). So, second best option, I think.  
Thought the diary format would be fun for this.  
Credits: Background image modified from one found at this page.

* * *

**I. **

**Thurs, 25 May**

_9st 3 (at last check), alcohol units 0, cigarettes 0, calories 0 (?), ability to move: non-existent_

_Morning? Maybe?_ Unsure how have got into present state. Last thing can remember is leaving 192 to get taxi. Now am in overly bright white room (can see light level through closed lids) with all manner of things fixed into arms (can feel them, _ugh_) and apparently surrounded by beeping machines (can hear them). Cannot move even though have tried. Is a bit alarming. Wonder if have been abducted by aliens or similar.

Ooh, hear voices. Mum and Dad. They don't sound happy.

_Late afternoon._ Ah. Were upset about me. Hm. V. frustrating that cannot tell them can hear them and that is just matter of getting mind and body cooperating with one another as they used to.

Felt bed sink beside me, felt a hand on mine. Knew even before speaking that it was Mum. "Hello darling," she said. Hurt to hear the false brightness in her tone. "Think that you're looking _much_ better today."

Felt bed sink on other side. Dad. "Much better than last week, so just keep on improving." (Last _week_? How long has this been going on?)

"Hope you don't mind, darling, but we've brought extra visitors again today." Mum. As if could tell them if minded. "Oof, Una's flowers need water." Felt her rise, bed shifting slightly, etc. (Mm. Once flowers were mentioned, could smell them. Well, a little, around thing in nose.)

"Hello, Bridget dear." Woman's voice, v. posh and dignified. Could not immediately place. "They say it's good to talk to people in—well, anyway, I hope you can hear me, and you'll be pleased to know our son is doing his best to help your parents with the police."

"And glad to do so." Man's voice. Definitely older. Also frustratingly familiar. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes, of course," came cool voice. Younger. Very familiar.

Stayed a little while longer, speaking with each other, before going. (Surprised so many people in room at once—would bet Mum steamrollered staff to get them in.) Heard Mum say, "Thank you for coming, Elaine," which was when all snapped into place for me then who visitors were. It was the Darcys. Mark included.

Now nurse or similar has come in, talking to Mum while checking machines (at least believe that is what was doing).

_Middle of night (?)._ Why on earth did Mark Darcy come with his parents to see me? Why? Cannot fathom why he would help parents when he so clearly finds me vulgar, chain-smoking verbal-diarrhoea-inflicted cow. Though what about mention of police? Why police?

Wish someone would tell me what happened. Expect they think it will be upsetting when not knowing is v. much more upsetting. However, cannot say so. Which, come to think of it, is upsetting.

**Fri, 26 May***

_(* Hope is only next day.)_

_Afternoon._ Slept for a bit, though is hard to tell if was really just a bit, or if really am awake after all, being that cannot open eyes, properly gauge time passage, etc. V. surreal.

Realised someone was in the room. More than Mum, I mean. Could hear talking, though is v. quiet. Mum and someone else.

"Oh, such a relief! What good news!" she said, much louder. "Bridget will be thrilled!" Started talking again as she paced around the room; could hear voice moving around closer to me. "Bridget, the detective has a lead thanks to the CCTV footage they found. Isn't that fantastic? They're so much closer to catching the—" She stopped.

Wished could scream, "What? _What?!_"

Felt bed sink, felt her touch my hand. "If I only knew if you could hear me. I have to think you can. Oh." Then she stopped and made inarticulate sound. Realise was yawn.

"Mrs Jones, maybe you should take a walk, go and get a cappuccino."

Was Mark Darcy!

"I _can't_ leave," Mum said firmly. "Someone has been here every moment of every day since she's been here. Me, her father, her friends. We're not leaving her alone to wake up surrounded only by medical machinery and emptiness. How scared she'd be! She's afraid of needles, you know. Hate to think of her waking and…" Crikey. Mum was practically sobbing.

"I understand," he said gently. "How about… you know, I can stay. That way she won't be alone."

Mum was uncharacteristically quiet. Perhaps she was as surprised as self was by how kind he sounded. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll try not to take too long."

"Take as long as you need."

Felt her kiss my forehead. Hope didn't leave lipstick mark. Then, in v. emotional voice: "Love you, Bridget. Be back soon."

All went quiet for many moments, except for footsteps, sound of chair next to bed sighing with the weight of a body. Heard clearing of throat. "I… hope you don't mind. Er. Sorry if you wake and it's my face you see." Attempt at joke? Maybe. He cleared throat again. "I don't know if my talking to you like this is appropriate, or if it will help, but… well. I think your mother thinks it'll help, anyway, hearing friendly voices."

Gr. Only talking to me because Mum put him up to it. Though does have nice voice. Was a bit of silence before he spoke again.

"I'm not really that good at this, and I know we didn't get off on the right foot, but I'd really… like to talk to you. _At_ you, I guess. Since you're not likely to respond. Oh God." He sighed.

Mark really was not v. good at this. Took in deep breath, but didn't speak again for a little bit. Could hear him shifting in seat; poss. leaning in towards me, as voice then got a bit louder.

"I'll bank that you _can_ hear me, because at the very least it'll ease my conscience."

Oh sure, as long as _you_ feel better. Grr.

"I've been very rude to you in the past. I was… an insufferable—" _Prick_, mind filled in before he said, "—clod, and for that I'm deeply sorry. I shouldn't have been so judgmental, but the reason for my foul mood really had nothing to do with you per se, and you did not deserve it to bear the brunt of it. It's…" He sighed. "It's such a bad time of year for me, Christmastime; it's when my… wife left me a few years ago, and… yes, perhaps I was a bit resentful of my mum and yours trying to match-make when dating is the furthest thing from my mind at that time of year. I shouldn't have taken it out on _you_, though."

Was gobsmacked. Am sure if jaw could have dropped open, it would have. Surely deserved bad karma after shagging Daniel's fiancée, but at _Christmas_? Beyond the pale.

"So. I hope someday _soon_, you and I…" Mark said, then trailed off. Heard Mum's voice coming down corridor and so, evidently, did he. "Well. Here's your mother come back already."

(Mum and her bloody bad timing. "You and I" what?)

Could hear clicking shoes getting closer. "Hello, Mark; hello, Bridget."

"Hello, Mrs Jones," Mark said. Could hear the chair screech a little as he stood and pushed it back. "You are looking much refreshed. You know, you didn't have to hurry back."

"Oh, no, didn't want to be gone too long."

"If there's anything you need—dinner, something to read, anything—please don't hesitate to ask."

Long pause. "I don't want to take up all of your free time," she said.

"I would be happy to help."

"I will keep that in mind," she said. Quiet pause again, then: "She looks better, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she does," he said, voice soft. Surely not serious. Surely humouring me. Am sure have purple and yellow face, tube in every orifice. "Much better than even yesterday." He paused. "Overall, she looks really quite good. Your first description—"

"Now shush, Mark," Mum cut in, in a voice presumably she thought I could not hear, which was exactly like her normal voice. "No negative talk."

Heard him laugh a little. "Sorry."

Now Mark has gone. Mum still here and telling me all news from Grafton Underwood whilst making comments about how Dad is late with dinner (think comatose tragedy has helped heal whatever was wrong between them—wonder if Julian is out of picture? Do dearly hope so). What Mark Darcy said has left me wondering, though. Can't be merely humouring me; he sounded really sincere in his remorse. Hmm.

(Oh! Wonder if Daniel has been by? But no, is no longer boyfriend; dumped me for naked American. All has come back to me now.)

_Evening._ Tom, Shaz and Jude came by to take a shift before Dad comes to stay night (gathered that by their conversation, Mum has apparently arranged schedule, etc. for family and friends to come and stay with me. Hope they would come anyway, without schedule. Yes, think they would). Was v. difficult as they were trying to be nonchalant, but were at same time v. sad about my condition and obviously trying not to burst out in tears.

"Your mum suggests we talk to you as if everything's totally normal," Shaz said. "As if _this_ is normal."

"Shhh," said Jude.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Jude," said Shaz, obviously pacing, "if she _can_ hear us, I think she's fully aware that this is _not normal_." Then said, under breath, "God, I could murder a Bloody Mary right now."

"Ooh, me too." Tom. "Let's get Bloody ones when we've gone."

"Ix-nay," said Shaz. "Very probable that Bridget hearing us talk about Bloody Marys that she can't have is far more upsetting than stating the obvious."

Too right, said to self. Yum. Bloody Mary. Though fairly sure am on some kind of magic anti-pain drip, as not feeling much of anything. Mm.

**Sat, 27 May***

_(* Another assumption, though conversations around me continue to make sense, so do not think am missing entire huge chunks of time.)_

_9st? Hope? Alcohol/cigarettes 0 until further notice; calories: enough to live on, would presume_

_Morning (7 am?)._ Dad here, has copy of _The Independent_. Has been reading stories he thinks would be interesting to me, and they are interesting for most part. Though wish would have started with saying what today's date is.

_10.00 am._ Mum now here to take her shift with me, such as it is. Strange conversation between them about someone coming in that evening; sounds like they are reluctant to have this person here, maybe? But why say yes in first place? And who could they want less than Mark Darcy?

_Mid-afternoon._ Mum is v. quiet. Know she is still here, because occasionally she will make a comment about the state of the flowerbeds or the Bundt pan she lent to Una, but otherwise much quieter than expect from her. Though suppose even Mum has limits for how much she can talk.

_Later._ Hm. Feeling v. introspective now. Mum has gone into the loo; can hear her crying a bit. It all started perfectly normally. "Now, Bridget," she said, "I've taken care of the cheese in your refrigerator, and you had a bunch of sprouting potatoes in the bin that I've thrown—" She stopped suddenly with a hiccup. "I'm sorry, darling," she said; voice totally had changed, had gone v. sad. "I'm auto-wittering on about nothing, hoping for nothing more that you can hear me, but I'm not really telling you what I want you to hear." Felt her put her hand on mine. "I may seem to be a bit hard on you at times, darling, nagging about getting married, about having children…" She sniffed. "In all honesty, though, you're perfect as you are. I would not trade you for any other daughter in the world. I love you, I'm proud of you, and…" Another hiccup. "Oh, please just come back to me, already." She started to cry, could tell that much. After a few minutes, she then said in falsely bright voice, "If you'll pardon me for a few, I need the ladies'."

Which is where she is now. Crikey. Am not emotionally unaffected myself. (Feel tears in corners of eyes, but then again often do.) Wish could tell her how much hearing it means to me. Will be sure to when am right as rain. Which am determined to be.

_Teatime_. Still not conscious.

_Evening._ Mum preparing to leave. Still in shock about who has come to sit with me. Is Daniel Cleaver. What parents said earlier now makes sense. Surely they will not have him stay overnight.

"Jones." Long silence. Expected quip or joke or some smart-arse something-or other, but has been very solemn. Then again, has been first time left alone with self (that know of). "I'm grateful your mum and dad gave me some time with you. I treated you… well, I know that I treated you appallingly. You didn't deserve it." Laughed under breath as took my hand. "Don't worry, Jones. Not going to try any funny business. I'm only here until your dad comes back." Felt nice to have his hands on mine. "If I could take it back, the way I hurt you, I would in a second. You…" Squeezed on hand. "You were very special to me. You are still. I realise I've ruined our relationship for all time, that there's no way you'd trust me to be anything more than friends and maybe not even that… but maybe you can hear this, maybe you can forgive me and consider not chucking me into the fuckwit bin for all time."

He was v. quiet for a while after that. Could feel him tenderly brushing my hair back from face. "Don't know what I've been thinking with Lara," he said. "Attractive, sure. The allure of youth, probably. She's got that drive to succeed, and more confidence then is good for her. But between you, me, and the IV drip, I made a bad choice." Sighed. "Basing a relationship on youth is not all it's cracked up to be. Youth doesn't last."

Feel suddenly like priest or similar holding confession, only all confessions are bizarrely about self.

"Eh, I'll get through it," he said, taking fingers away from my forehead. "Have late supper with her after I leave you. Should back out of it, should break up with her, but… well, you know me, Bridge. I'm a coward in the face of the possibility of a shag."

Would have laughed if could have.

"Truth be told, I'm a coward, full stop," he went on quietly. "I felt so much for you that it terrified me. And, as per usual… felt the need to sabotage my own happiness." Chuckled again, though was totally mirthless. "Those sessions with my therapist haven't been for nought."

After getting what he wanted to say off his chest, he was much relaxed. Told me all about what's going on in office. How everyone's v. worried and thinking of me. "Perpetua's beside herself," he said in secretive tone. "She tries to brazen it out, but she misses more than just having you around to be all bossy with. Even Simon in Marketing pitched in for the lush bouquet that you can't see. Can't see _yet_, Jones; I remain optimistic. In fact, all manner of authors pitched in to wish their favourite book launch speaker well. Julian Barnes for one…"

Great. Bridget Jones: remembered for all eternity as fuck-up public speaker and coma victim by famous authors. Though… this means Julian Barnes knows who self is!

_9 pm (at least, as sun has gone down)._ Daniel just gone, Mum now back to spend night. Daniel spent remainder of his time regaling self with stories from uni. Even ventured to go into one with ex-mate Mark Darcy. Sounds like they were decent friends—and that Mark was good at keeping him grounded. Really a shame that Mark had to be giant knob and ruin everything. Wonder if Daniel's ex-fiancée was same woman Mark married that left him at Christmas? Hm. No, can't be, as Daniel was best man at Mark's wedding. So does that mean Mark's wife left him because he slept with Daniel's ex-fiancée? V. intriguing. Wish could ask for a bit more detail, as accounts of Mark the cad do not quite mesh with Mark the upstanding human rights barrister who's been taking time out of busy schedule to help my parents re: police investigation of… whatever it was happened to me. Perhaps was foolishness of youth and Mark Darcy is regretful of indiscretions. Hm.

But was not that long ago, and Mark Darcy is older than self, surely?

_Later._ Hope Daniel comes back again. Was nice to have him near. Have missed him, his saucy ways, his wicked sense of humour. Though he's right—would not be interested in getting into all of that fuckwittage again.

**Sun, 28 May**

_Morning._ Can say with confidence that is Sunday, as paper per Mum's reading was the Sunday _Times_. Hurrah! Good to know that have not slipped into month-long relapse or similar, as know that it is still May, given stories in newspaper.

From what Mum said before she went into loo to fix herself up is that Dad is coming soon, bringing for a visit (I think) Una and Geoffrey. Surely he won't try to pinch bottom whilst am in hospital bed.

_Afternoon._ Nice visit with the Alconburys, I think. Una sounded very weepy. Geoffrey hardly said a word. Except for occasional clearing of throat would not have even known was there. Possible he was weepy too?

Now Dad is reading to me. Suppose he could have chosen worse Dickens to read than _A Christmas Carol_, though is v. weird to hear talk of Christmas dinner in dead of summer. Am sure he only chose this because he knows has positive ending. Could be worse. Could have picked dreadful _Bleak House_, which have only kept in bookshelves as it seems treasonous to be English and discard a Dickens book.

_Later._ On second thought, doubt he would have picked book with 'bleak' in title (and as name of house; so cheery and optimistic) to read to unconscious daughter.

_Evening._ Dad finished Dickens and is now talking with Magda, leaving me to wonder if old Scrooge eventually regretted decision to embrace Christmas when, come following August, nephew Fred called 'round to wonder if he wanted a wheeled suitcase in navy on red, or red on navy, as Mum does to self.

_Later._ Feeling v. priest-confessor again. Magda has spend entirety of time talking through problems with Jeremy, posing questions to self that cannot possibly answer out loud. Net result is that by the end of it was grasping my hand desperately and bawling her eyes out, not over self's condition (which is, to be honest, something of relief) but about Jeremy and how she's—thanks to me?—worked everything out.

"You've always been such a good listener, Bridge," she said, without trace of irony. "I mean, I can almost hear what you would say if you could say it." Squeezed my hand. Felt glad could help even in some small way. Feel useless otherwise.

Someone here. Oh goody! Tom is here! First thing said: "Bridget! You're looking so _thin_!" Heard Magda shush him but was glad for the joke. (Though probably have lost weight, come to think, with no consumption of alcohol, Emmenthal cheese slices, smoothies, etc. Maybe down to 8st 7 now?)

_Midnight? V. late._ Tom, bless his soul, did his best to steer clear from confessing to Vicar Comatose, giving me updates about mutual friends (and things he daren't say with Shaz and Jude there, about Shaz and Jude re: respective love lives). But then he turned to the topic of Jerome. "The thing is, Bridge," he said in sorrowful, resigned voice, "I know that bastard is no good for me, but it's like… I can't help myself, you know? It's tragic, like being pulled into a black hole. Forces beyond my control."

'Black hole' perhaps not best analogy for Jerome situation, but was glad to let him vent. Seems happier now than when he came in. Now he's got some ridiculous magazine and is reading me hilarious bits from it, laughing the whole time.

Oh. Magazine is _Cosmo_. Did not realise quite how ridiculous it could be. Hm.

**Mon, 29 May**

_Afternoon (?)._ Must have drifted to sleep late, and am awake (aware?) later than thought, as Tom is gone and Mum is back. She is apparently reading through the _Cosmo_ that Tom left behind and is making all manner of commentary.

"Well, durr, of course this is all pure ridiculousness," she said, which self tended to agree given Tom's dramatic reading. "A woman does not have to change who she is to get a man! If a man can't love her for who she is, he's just not worth having! Such twaddle these magazines put into young ladies' heads. I don't know."

Heard her toss the magazine aside in a thump and a flutter of pages. Wish had her confidence. Perhaps once am back to land of consciousness, will give it a try.

_Later._ Though surely a bit of change indicates willingness to compromise? But no, is only compromise if making specific change for specific person, and they change too. Would go mad trying to anticipate all changes all possible partners could want.

Though will try v. hard to keep slimmer body once out of this state. Therapist types come in and move legs and arms around—is like they are doing exercising for me. V. curious. Wonder if this is a possibility while conscious.

_Dinner-ish time._ Dad is back with dinner for Mum before she goes. Think is fish and chips. Smells delicious. When can, am going to eat pizza every night for a week.

_Later._ Dad did not stay after all. After they finished their food, someone else arrived to stay with me. Quite surprised to find Daniel Cleaver with overnight shift.

"You're sure you can do this?" asked my mum. "I mean, don't you need to be available for your work?"

"No, it's fine, and it's my pleasure to do this."

Have just had horrifying thought. Do parents realise that Daniel-my-boss is the same as Daniel-that-chucked-me? Surely they must. What did he say to them to make them agree to let him not only see me, but stay overnight?

_7 pm (presenter has just announced it). _Unbelievable. Daniel has put on the football. Did not even know there was a television in here.

_Later._ Though it is rather nice to think of this as a night in with Daniel (even only as just friend) than another night in hospital.

_At least 10pm._ V. interesting turn of events. Has left me in v. thoughtful state.

Shortly after the football ended, Daniel told me he was stepping into loo for a moment. As he was in there, heard quiet rapping on door, then heard door open. "Mrs Jones?"

Crikey, was Mark Darcy, clearly under misapprehension that Mum was with me tonight. Heard him close door. Then heard Daniel come out of loo.

Wish could have seen expressions etc. when eyes met. Expected fight to erupt, hair-pulling, eye gouging, attempted strangulation over my unconscious body, etc.

Didn't expect to hear Mark Darcy say, "Cleaver. You look like hell."

"Nice to see you too, Darce," he said, voice extremely guarded. "What even brings you here?"

"I've been helping Bridget's parents with… the investigation. Handling the police so they can focus on being here for her." Pause. "What are _you_ doing here? From what I've heard you did to her, I doubt she'd even want you here anyway."

Long silence. "I guess I deserve that," Daniel said.

"You will never learn," Mark said quietly. "It's like you intentionally go out of your way to ruin people's happiness. Me… Bridget…"

"I did not intend anything."

"Just your own selfish—" Mark stopped suddenly. "I don't want to fight with you about that in here. The past is past." More silence. "Tell me. Why did you want to go out with Bridget?"

Grr. Jerk. Just because he thinks am repulsive, everyone else must too?

"What's it to you?" Daniel said.

"I mean, what did you see in her? She's _not_ your usual type," Mark said, seeming to remind that self was aberration from normal. Grr!

"I think that was it," he said. "Breath of fresh air. There's a sweetness to her. An honesty. A vulnerability."

"Don't you mean 'naïveté'?" Mark said. "Easier to take advantage of her?"

Am not naïve! Bastard.

"No," Daniel barked. "Stop being an arse."

Long silence again. Gah! Wished could see what was going on. Think could hear them sit down. Was not sure who took which chair until they started talking again.

"What did you say to her about me?" Mark asked at last from distance. Was a certain quiet resignation to his voice. "She made some very strange comments to me that weekend in the country. You know… the bunny girl costume."

Close to me, heard Daniel chuckle, but not in amused way. "I fudged the facts a bit."

"What did you say?"

"I thought you said the past was past."

"This is very much the present."

Another bout of silence. "If I'd told the absolute truth, she wouldn't have gone out with me."

Mark spoke again after a few moments. "If she can hear us—and I think she can—don't you think she deserves to know?"

Heard Daniel let out long breath. "Instead, I told her you shagged my fiancée."

Kept thinking: Instead of what. Instead of _what_?!

Mark let out long sigh, then unexpectedly laughed. "You've never been engaged in your life."

"Well, I am—"

"You, engaged?" interrupted Mark.

"I should say I _was_, until…" he began. "She dumped me for wanting to stay here with Bridget at the hospital. But at the time, I had to think quickly. Was a long-time, long-distance thing," he said.

Mark Darcy snorted in derisive way. "No wonder Bridget thought I was a total jerk."

Daniel laughed low in throat. Could only think this was so very surreal. "You should thank me, really," Daniel said.

"Thank you?"

"For taking that ungrateful, adulterous bitch off of your hands."

To that Mark Darcy said nothing—perhaps something had struck close to home. Realised at that moment what the truth really was: no fiancée, only a man, his wife, and a fuckwit of a best man. Can hardly believe am thinking this, but: poor Mark.

"I need to track down Mrs Jones," Mark said at last, before he left. "Good night."

Daniel has said no more. Probably has gone to sleep. Should try too.

_Later still._ Wait. Was long-time, long-distance? Before stick insect came to London? Makes self other woman! Vile thought. Feeling urge to murder Daniel Cleaver rise even higher. Willing self to sit up. Is not working.

**Tues, 30 May**

_Morning._ Was woken up (inasmuch can wake up whilst in this state) by Mum, who was v. excited. Daniel apparently already gone. "Darling, there's been a break in the case! The investigators got the number plate on the car from another CCTV recording. Isn't that marvellous, darling? Things are _really_ moving now!"

Suspected this was the big news from Mark Darcy last night. Could not care less, not when could not open eyes or have a wee on my own.

_Late afternoon._ Mum still here, as is Dad; hear them talking. They seem a bit agitated. Wonder what is going on?

_Later._ Ah, all is clear now. Mum and Dad needed to go to police station and had no one to stay with me. Only person available was Mark Darcy, who is now sitting on chair beside bed. Sat there for v. long time in silence.

"Sorry about last night," he said at last. "I mean, if you can even hear us, or me, or whatever—and I think you can, I really do—then the things that came up last night when Daniel and I were here were probably pretty hurtful. I'm sorry if that was the case." He sighed. Heard chair creaking as he shifted himself in it. "I know I was a bit prickly in every instance we saw each other, but… some of that was due to a real…" He drifted off with a light laugh. "Well, what I thought I should feel and what I actually felt were a bit at odds, but none of that matters to me anymore. And then Daniel, sabotaging me…" Drifted off again. Surprised to feel him put his hand over mine. V. soft, warm hand. "I just… well, I would have liked to take you to dinner. Maybe I still can."

Thought about what he'd done for Mum and Dad, about how badly had misjudged him. Is v. handsome, has kind eyes even if sometimes stern expression… and cannot banish image of nice backside from mind. If can ever get self out of this state, think that dinner with Mark Darcy might be v. nice. Yes.

"What? What was that?"

Was confused. He squeezed my hand.

"Mind must be playing tricks," he said, "unless I really did hear you say 'yes'."

Oh. Oh my God. Must try again.

Squeezed hand with both of his. "Bridget," he said, almost desperately. "If you can hear me…"

Going to try to pull myself up out of this now. Yes. Right. Here goes.

**II. **

**Fri, 30 Jun**

_8st 11 (what was point of being in coma?), cigarettes 0, alcohol units 2 (big glass), calories 3500_

_10 am. My flat._ Glad to be home alone at last. Not that do not love parents and friends, etc., but glad to feel like am back to normal. Injuries are, for most part, well healed. Bruising gone, though still have dark circles under eyes. Have regained weight lost during coma. Physical therapist says most weight returning is muscle, which is good, I think.

_3.30 pm._ Remember opening eyes after two (?) weeks unconscious to see expectant face of Mark Darcy. Blinked against brightness of room, which was not all that bright but just had not had eyes open for a while. He smiled, even hiccupped a little sob, and in uncharacteristic show of emotion, brought up my tube-addled hand (horrors!) to kiss my knuckles.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I croaked. Everything was blurry and wobbling.

"Your parents will be back in a little while," he rambled. "Wait 'til they see this. They'll be so incredibly pleased."

"I know," I said. "I heard."

"So you _could_ hear?" he asked.

Managed to nod a little. "Yes. Almost everything, I think, from your first visit with your parents."

"Ah," he said. He reached over and pressed a button at my bedside, turning all business again. "Don't strain yourself," he commanded. "I'm sure the doctor will want to examine you."

That they did, with all sorts of reflex tests, etc. etc. Guess passed muster given comments from doctors and nurses. During all of this Mark Darcy slipped out into hallway.

Could tell when my parents arrived as could hear my mother's shrill voice in the hall. Doctors finished and they came rushing in. Mum, blubbering like baby, latched onto self as if lamprey eel. Dad was busy crying into handkerchief. Have never been so pleased in all of life to see them.

"Bridget, darling," she said through her sobs.

"Hi, Mum," I said quietly.

"Pam, dear, don't smother her," said Dad. Mum sat up. Turned gaze to him. He was teary eyed and happy.

"This is the _very_ best day!" gabbled Mum. "First an arrest, now this!"

Still didn't know exactly what had happened, and did not care. Felt overwhelmingly sleepy, oddly enough. "Mum," I said. "Did Mark Darcy leave?"

"He didn't want to intrude, darling," she said, stroking my hair.

"But did he leave?"

"I think he's still out in the hallway… why?"

Took in deep breath. "Tell him… to come in, please."

Dad went to get him, and he came in with look of grave concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Bridget asked for you," said Mum with beaming smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked self directly.

Nodded to him. "Just wanted to say I really did say yes," I managed, "though it might be a while before…" Too tired to go on, but he smiled and came 'round to take my hand.

"I understand," he said. "Just name the time and place."

So time is now (finally!), place is here. Have seen a lot of Mark Darcy since woke up again, but all on 'getting to know you as friend' basis, which cannot complain about. He was v. kind and sweet, bringing contraband chocolate before hospital discharge, and coming over with groceries and taking me to follow-up appointments with doctor.

Thought it would be nice to go to restaurant for first date, but Mark has point that immune system may not be up to snuff, so he is bringing takeaway and wine. (Mum agrees. Hm. Unsure how feel about Mum and… possible boyfriend?... in agreement in this way.) Still feeling a bit weak, too (stairs to flat are still v. challenging, but am getting better at it). Also still wearing a corset-ish thing to protect bruised ribs, too. Probably best to stay in, be comfortable on sofa, watch film on DVD, or just talk.

Will be first wine since accident. Hope can hold liquor adequately.

_11 pm._ Excellent night. Dinner, wine: v. g. Warm embrace and tender kiss: bliss. Think shall do this again soon.

**Mon, 17 Jul**

_8st 10 (better), cigarettes 2 (gah, frustration), alcohol units 3 (deserved), calories 275000 (feels like)_

_8 pm. My flat._ Today was first day back to work. Finally feel up to it. Never have been so glad to have rather dull desk job. Saw and spoke to Daniel (private, in office, though is totally glass office so not v. private). Touch surreal. Told him straightaway that had heard what he said while was out of it. Looked sort of sheepish. Also told him appreciated his honesty, would be okay to be friends someday but would have to work hard to gain my trust again.

Also told Daniel was now dating Mark Darcy. He seemed less surprised than expected. "I wish you the best," he said, then with a spark of his old sense of humour, added, "you'll need it." He was v. kind to me, and we parted with a hug. Did not even try to feel self up.

Speaking of the devil, won't be seeing Mark Darcy until Wednesday at least. Have been delighted at how things have been. Mostly. He is being v. strange about… well. Get feeling that he thinks self will break if we do more than snog. V. frustrating.

**Weds, 19 Jul**

_8st 11 (argh), cigarettes 5 (more frustration), alcohol units 4 (reasonable), calories 2700 (also reasonable)_

_6 pm. My flat._ Mark should be here soon. V. much looking forward. Have put on skimpy silk bra/pants under matching dressing gown.

_6.25 pm._ Mark came in with pizzas, took one look at me, said, "Oh, did I catch you napping?" Perhaps taking off dressing gown will be bigger clue.

_9.30 pm._ No progress. When took off dressing gown, simply got lecture about lack of clothing (despite it being v. warm July). Had pizza (and wine as coping mechanism). Had a bit of a cuddle before he said he had to go. Early morning court appearance. Do appreciate his stopping by but am beginning to feel as if am hideous leper or similar. Now having cigarette to further cope. Is all his fault have taken up smoking again.

Oh, telephone.

_10.15 pm._ Was Mark.

"Sorry about before," he said, straightaway.

Played it cool. "Oh?" I asked.

"You looked very nice," he said. "Very sexy. But it didn't feel right."

"Oh," I said, obviously disappointed. "Would it help if I got the doctor to write me a note?"

He chuckled. "I meant, especially with my early morning tomorrow." Pause. "I am conscious of your recovery, but even still… believe me, it wasn't an easy thing to resist."

"Ah," I said, feeling a twinge of hope, though bloody good actor though.

Long pause before spoke again. "How about… Friday, we have dinner at my house?"

Told him that sounded v. good, but blimey. Have not been to his house before.

Another pause before he added, "You can pack an overnight bag."

Oh, goody.

**Fri, 21 Jul**

_8st 12 (why, today of all days? WHY?), cigarettes 7 (nerves pre-arrival at Darcy mansion), alcohol units 5 (mansion makes self nervous), calories 16000 (v. rich supper)_

_5.30 pm. My flat._ Home after nerve-wracking rest-of-work week imagining that will go to Mark Darcy's house and feel about two inches tall. Or feel as if intruder or similar. Need to pack necessities before Mark comes to get me.

_5.35 pm._ Though hm. Which things do I absolutely need to bring? Surely not nightgown, yes?

Gahhh! Door!

_7.05 pm. Mark Darcy's house._ Blimey. House is enormous, obscenely so for one single man. Everything v. white and under-decorated. Keep having to glance to skirt to remind self that there is colour in the world.

Was startled by door earlier. Thought he said he was coming at half six, not half five. "Surely you realise I needed time to pack a small bag."

"I thought you might have done last night or this morning," he said with a grin. "Fair point, though. Should have known you might not have."

Grr. Lucky for him is v. g. snogger.

_8.30 pm._ Surprised that dinner was not takeaway at all but pasta and homemade sauce, white wine then chocolate mousse for dessert. After a bit of snogging on sofa, have come up to jaw-dropping-ly gorgeous bedroom with island-sized four-poster king bed. Have come into en suite up to freshen self up, i.e. brush hair and teeth, make sure makeup is nice, take off clothes, make sure no bruises remaining that can be used as excuse to halt the activities, and then put lovely dressing gown over pretty bra and pant set (can't make it too easy; must work a little for it).

All that is left is to put on a little lip gloss, then am ready to go.

**Sat, 22 Jul**

_8st 9 (probably), cigarettes 0 (not even needed post-coitally), alcohol units 0 (shag-drunk), calories 3500 (a bit on high side, but must replenish burnt calories)_

_9.30 am. Mark Darcy's bed._ Woke to find no trace of Mark Darcy. Hope he is bringing up coffee. In truth, half expected to find him in coma as self had been, given vigorous activity overnight. Snogging should have been indicator. Even still, wouldn't have been adequate, because… will be lucky if can stagger to en suite without whimpering in pain. Mmm. (Good kind of pain, obviously.)

Oh, hear him returning. Maybe should strike sexy pose or similar. But no, would like to have coffee or breakfast soon.

_10.45 am._ Purposefully sexy pose not needed. Coffee and pastries got cold. Was well worth it.

_The end._


End file.
